


Nonlinear

by GrayArcadian



Series: Interface - Part One: Memory [3]
Category: Star Trek: The Next Generation
Genre: Angst and Feels, Angst with a Happy Ending, Consent Issues, Data is bad with feelings, Drunk Sex, Episode: s01e03 The Naked Now, Episode: s01e04 Code of Honor, Episode: s01e05 The Last Outpost, Episode: s01e06 Where No One Has Gone Before, F/M, Friendship/Love, Non-Linear Narrative, Tasha is bad with feelings
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-07
Updated: 2020-04-07
Packaged: 2021-03-01 20:40:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,220
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23523199
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GrayArcadian/pseuds/GrayArcadian
Summary: Missing and expanded scenes that cover "Code of Honor," "The Last Outpost," Where No One Has Gone Before," and - of course - "The Naked Now."  Tasha has been working too hard and, in her sleep-deprived state, discovers something important that breaks the dam open on what "never happened."  Also explains why she insisted on such a request (which is likely going to generate comments galore and I hated myself a little writing it).Will incorporate a story called "Matters at Hand," which I published on Fanfiction.net.  Work will be cross-posted.
Relationships: Data/Tasha Yar
Series: Interface - Part One: Memory [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1682440
Comments: 2
Kudos: 16





	1. No Bed

_nonlinear: adjective_

_Not in a straight line....[In] Mathematics, of or relating to a system of equations whose effects are not proportional to their causes. Such a set of equations can be chaotic._

_\- Your Dictionary.com Definition (Truncated)_

“You don’t have a bed.”

There were paintings. A violin case. A stretch of blank floor, One neatly hung suit in the closet next to 3 uniforms and shined boots. No bed.

Implacable as ever, Data tilted his head in mild confusion. “Yes,” he reminded her. “I do not need to sleep. Therefore, I have no need of one.” 

Tasha’s mind felt as if it were an over-wound clock missing a gear. This was a clue. No. Not a clue. This was an answer to something colossal; something she...no...they both needed to know. But the nightmares had been back since the Traveler had taken them all to the edge.

She still wondered what Data had dreamed about while out there. Maybe nothing.  _ Lucky him. _

The power drain from their last adventure had crippled the ship. The mission before had pressed the crew’s mental limits to capacity. Repairs were underway while much of the crew that were not able to help had beamed down to the colony they had just saved for shore leave. There were practically no amenities on the forested world, but roughing it was, in most people’s minds, better than staring at walls that sprung to life as their thoughts wandered or shook with stress as the power emitters had shoveled everything they had into stabilizing the world’s plate tectonics.

As Ops and Security, they were working overtime together again in constant close quarters, compensating for their revolving door of Chief Engineers. The memories of...other things...were still there, but time and duty shoved them to the side. The Captain said they’d make a fine crew if they avoided temptation, so she did as her Captain needed her to do. Data, no doubt, had five hundred other things on his mind.  _ He probably whisked it all into some memory bank or deleted it entirely. _ It would be a blessing if he had, despite that sick feeling in her stomach. So they were here, in his quarters because it was actually just loud enough to concentrate on work here and she was proving to herself that she could be here again. Alone. With him. Doing her duty this time.

But fatigue had long past started to fray her. She found herself pacing more often and less often able to read and understand the words coming across her datapad. Her eyes burned as she tried. Data, of course, was needling her about it, so - fine. She’d give in.  _ “Fine. I’ll just use yours!” she huffed at him. “A couple of hours is all I need.” _

And now nothing was here and she knew she had found some kind of missing variable.

There was something about this blank room, screaming something at her in a language her mind couldn’t quite make out. The extended drain of work and tension and fatigue all swirled about her, dulling her capacity. Damn it! All she wanted was a few hours sleep so she could go back to the mundane minutia of getting a compromised ship back up to the form it had been in. Okay, she could sleep on the floor, but now there was the no bed mystery to solve. 

“Lieutenant?”

“Don’t call me ‘Lieutenant’ right now!” she snapped at him.   
  
She heard him at her back. Closer. Up front his desk but still not in touching range. “Why would you not want to be addressed formally? Was that not your request?” 

At that moment it clicked.


	2. Team Play

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (Takes Place Shortly Before "The Naked Now) Less fraught times. Tasha and Data on a playground and...Well, Data's language abilities have important limits.

_ If you would read a mans disposition see him game, you will then learn more of him in one hour, than in seven years conversation, and little wagers will try him as soon as great stakes, for then he is off his Guard. _

_ “A Letter of Advice to a Young Gentleman Leaveing the University Concerning His Behaviour and Conversation in the World” by Richard Lingard. (1670) _

“And go! One...two..three..” Each number was punctuated by a slam of a fist on a palm. On the ‘three, Tasha’s palm opened while Data’s remained in a fist. There was a wide open smile as Tasha took his fist in her open palm. “Paper beat rock!” She added a small half giggle at the end that Data had learned was a sign of contentment and happiness with her and there was pride in learning more about how to understand someone through non-verbal communication.

“Do you wish to try again?” he asked.

“No.” The laughter in her voice became more pronounced. “You have a tell, you know.”

“A tell?” Data searched his memory banks for a fitting definition. “Ah, you mean a signal, a sign, omen, a way for my actions to be deduced.” Everyone else, even Geordi, cut him off, Tasha never did. He did not want, as the vernacular described, to “push his luck,” however. He kept such replies to a maximum of four.

“Exactly.” Tasha fell back on the picnic blanket to look up at the cumulus clouds floating across the broad blue holographic sky. “So that’s paper, rock, scissors; hopscotch; jacks; hula hoops; and - What was that other one? The up/down one?”

“Ounch Neech. Originating in Pakistan. It is a variant on tag.”   
  
“Good survival game.” At one time, such a remark would have been tinged with some kind of sour intonation. War games were of critical importance to Tasha and noting anything’s strategic importance often placed her in an analytical mode rivaling his own. Today, he was pleased to hear the lightness in her voice remain. “Played out for today?”

“No, but I do have an appointment with Lieutenant LaForge in forty-five minutes and 27 seconds for which I should prepare.”

She squinted her eyes as the clouds unmasked the sun. “Oh?”

“When we were calibrating the main reflector dish, we struck up a conversation about Dutch Masters of the 1600s. He offered to help me explore some of the idea of Still Life on canvas.”

Tasha sat up. “Painting?”

Witnessing her genuine interest in his activities was part of what made her different. He did not understand why, but in a short time, Lieutenant Yar’s opinion had become of deep value to him and provided him something of a charge to have her esteem. “Yes. I am glad you approve.”

“Why wouldn’t I? I mean this whole playground you built is an art form. I can see where painting is similar.”

“I may have designed it,” he admitted, but your refinements have enhanced game play spectacularly.” He pointed out the small grove of trees, the oddly named ‘monkey bars,’ in the distance, and the worn patches of dirt around the scenario which offered a distance in their footing abilities that Tasha had been right about when creating a variety of challenges. “While Geordi is advising me, this shall be more of a solo work.” Tasha nodded and the pair sat in silence for several seconds. Data was eager to continue the conversation and make the most of his time with her, so he added, “I believe I have made a truly exponential amount of small breakthroughs in my short time on the  _ Enterprise. _ Lieutenant LaForge - Geordi - has many interests that I share as well. He has also expressed sympathy for my perceptions of feeling...outside...of interactions with humans and has expressed similar stories of exclusion.” 

Tasha nodded. “Geordi’s great. Friendly. Nice. I think you’ll have a great time. I’d love to hear about it later.” She leaned a bit closer to him, taking in the shape of a new cloud on the horizon. It occurred to Data that he was having trouble keeping the conversation going once again, so he pressed on, explaining another reason for his enthusiasm.

“While I have had many successful working partnerships, I believe this may be an opportunity to begin forming lasting friendships.”

Tasha frowned. “What do you mean?”

“My time at the Academy, though full of social interaction, was functional, but lacking in camaraderie and shared experiences away from strictly academic need. The experiences I did share were often as the object of practical jokes.” He witnessed Tasha flinch and made a note to ask her about it later, but he continued. “In my time aboard the  _ Trieste _ , there were no practical jokes, but I was not sought out for social interaction while off duty. It seems Geordi is willing to become my first real friend.”

He had hoped Tasha would approve of this journey for self-discovery and his recent victories. Instead she had an odd scowl on her face. “Data,” she said slowly. “What about this?”

Nothing in his databanks had any idea what she was referring to. “This?”

Tasha’s impatient nature was rarely directed towards him, but “rarely,” it seemed, was today. “Asking me to the holodeck to keep trying out new kids’ games every week. Coming to talk to me off shift. Joining me for lunch when you don’t eat just to pass time or ask me questions.” Her tone was a sharp contrast to the sunny artificial surroundings. “We’re not ‘friends?””

This put Data on the proverbial spot. He wasn’t sure why Lieutenant Yar had had such a shift of mood. Was spending time with Lieutenant LaForge engendering jealousy? No. That seemed incorrect. She had been supportive and now she was not. He replayed the conversation and - ah! That was it. She believed her status with him was something other than it was. There was one problem with that. He wasn’t sure how to define it himself. None of the words in the 300 standard dictionaries of Federation languages encapsulated it; so he went with the closest thing.   
  
“You are...different.”

Her eyebrows disappeared into her light-colored bangs. “Different?”

He noted her tone was not improving. “Special.”

Data noticed her take in several deep breaths before repeating, “Special.” Then she sighed a short, decisive sigh and sprang to her feet. “I guess ‘special’ works.” Her tone indicated that it was as effective as operating an engine without dilithum, and he was very confused.

“I meant no disrespect,” he replied weakly, knowing full well he somehow had caused offense and was uncertain how to make up for the slight.

“I know you didn’t.” There was still anger to her voice, but also...pity? “Find me later and tell me about your date with LaForge. I still want to hear about it.” With that, she called for the arch and left at a much faster pace than he anticipated.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> He really did put his foot in it, didn't he?
> 
> This is something of a canon patch. Data refers to Geordi as his first friend on the series, but - Tasha fan that I am - I had to wonder how he defined their interaction, when it started, and how it was cataloged. Was it always a form of intimacy? I came to the conclusions that it must have been and, for an asexual character, like Data, "intimacy," isn't going to be sexually-based, merely, in this case, have a sexual component somewhere in the mix. In this case, sharing childish things without fear of judgement.


	3. Turn and Face

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Back to where we left off in Chapter 1. Some questions getting answered.

She whirled around on her heel to face him, opening her mouth to speak, but nothing came out. Relying on Data’s patience yet again, she pressed her fingers together, pressing her now sweaty palms against one another, holding them in front of her lips for a moment in a poor attempt to reign in her nervousness. The words fell out in a gush of adrenaline she didn’t know she had left.

“It was your first time, wasn’t it?”

“First...time?”

“Oh, to **_hell. With. This!_** ” she exclaimed. “Beds - **_Commander_** \- are multi-functional devices!”

It was gratifying in a mean way to see the small, but clear and unmistakable  _ shock _ on his face. She finally broke that damn distant  _ look _ off his face for once, grabbed him out of his positronic brain and into the confused and uncertain world of flesh and disquiet. The silence shook between them, but at least it was a  _ them _ right now.

Tasha found her voice first, low and quaking. “It was my first, too...since Turkana. I was 15 and there just wasn’t time. No one to trust. I had to make it - had to - so...I dropped that part of myself off and never looked back until -” She swallowed, unable to go on, feeling as if her throat were about to choke her off from air any second.

The silence lingered until Data answered. “No.”

She hadn’t realized she’d been looking at the carpet. “No,” she breathed with relief.

“All aspects of my functionality were tested at the Daystrom Institute upon my discovery.”

Tasha felt her stomach lurch to the side shooting up bile to burn her chest. “An  _ experiment?” _ She was so glad she hadn’t taken Data up on his insistence that she eat something earlier. She’d have to stop this conversation to clean his floor. 

She could have sworn there was a shift in his eyes - something small and sad. “It...happened?” Then he added. “Though I would not have called it a satisfactory experience.”

The deep breaths she was performing were helping to restore the oxygen in her system. “So you didn’t seek out more. So no bed.”

“Lieu - Tasha.” Her heart warmed a little hearing her own name. “I do not believe this is a good time to discuss this topic.” She wasn’t expecting him to reach out and brush his hand over her cheek. It felt so  _ good _ ; the calm, clear eye of the maelstrom. “As much as have wanted to discuss many topics with you, including the one-time increase in our intimate involvement, you have asked that such topics not be discussed.”

Tasha snorted. “‘Asked,’ is a polite way to put it…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Damn, I wish they told me happier things about themselves when I write them.
> 
> Also, is it just me, or does that scene from "The Naked Now," become something a whole lot different than funny knowing everything we know now?

**Author's Note:**

> I have 3 more scenes written, but I make reference to something I know in my headcanon that I haven't explained well to an audience, so it's pending along with a prequel story, Providence, I haven't finished, but has some chapter up on fanfiction.net I need to port over.
> 
> As you Data fans have likely discovered, some sad news hit your character this week (April 2020). I have extended thoughts on my blog (https://grayarcadian.dreamwidth.org/), but, needless to say, Tasha fan me has been where you've been and likely done what you are doing. And, no, I know it's not the point if it was well done or not. Trek isn't like other shows. Trek /changes/ you if you watch it at a certain time in your life and it sucks losing your guiding star. You have whatever support I can offer. Tasha wouldn't have it any other way.


End file.
